


Matching Outfits

by Einzel



Category: Dangan Ronpa
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2018-01-21 06:16:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1540688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Einzel/pseuds/Einzel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I wrote this piece for a good friend and I was really happy with it, so I decided to share it here. Togami Byakuya decides to coordinate his and Fukawa's outfits to make dressing up for evening engagements easier but gets carried away. Also Hagakure, who needs to be in every Dangan Ronpa fanfic, no exceptions.</p><p>Don't check the notes until you've read it, it contains spoilers!</p><p>Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Matching Outfits

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zenonaa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenonaa/gifts).



Commissioning matching outfits for evening wear would forever be one of the highlights of Togami Byakuya’s romantic career, an exceptionally clever and elegant solution to Fukawa’s crippling self-consciousness and eternal uncertainty. Watching her tear through the built-in wardrobe and discard a dozen possible dresses or teeter between different pieces of jewelry was torture; it reminded Togami of the way she shuffled adjectives in an already convoluted sentence that would soon be erased altogether, again and again until nothing remained but frustration over an ugly blank page. It would not do, and neither would her useless tears over what might please Byakuya-sama more: ruffles or frills and lace. (Neither. Togami preferred clean edges and slick flatness with very few exceptions, all of which lay in flesh, not fabric.)

After one such night half wasted on needless worries over shades of purple and how many accessories counted as excessive, Togami called his tailor the very next day to have their measurements taken. He immediately commissioned the chosen professional for a perfected realization of a recently sketched design, a “fleeting idea he had” that happened to fleet from 1:48 am to 3:53 am, and after they settled on the colors, the tailor left and Togami internally congratulated himself on having so delightfully severed the Gordian knot. Once Fukawa was instructed in the subject of matching shoes and jewelry, their evening preparations were shortened by several hours and Fukawa worried no more – after all, Byakuya-sama could do no wrong.

Togami continued to sketch new outfits whenever inspiration struck him. He had even purchased a set of copic markers to refine his drafts, preferring the tangible reality of his design sheets over toiling in some bothersome digital application. They wore black and white, brown and cream, an array of grays and blues and subtle purples until one day, Togami took up his markers and tried something completely different: white, powder pink and baby blue for a light, effulgent ensemble. That was when Fukawa’s faith began to waver. Oh, not in Byakuya-sama: only in herself, forever and always.

“But Byakuya-sama,” she pleaded him with her hands clutching her head, “think of how disgusting my dark hair would look with your beautiful design! It would look like seaweed caked with mud! I would ruin it, _ruin it!_ ”

“ _Fukawa,_ ” came Togami’s reply in a curt, commanding tone that had Touko bite her tongue in shame. “My designs are perfect by nature – they cannot be ruined. Is that clear?”

Touko chewed her lip. Togami frowned.

“ _Is that clear?_ ”

“Byakuya-sama is always right, Byakuya-sama is always right,” murmured Fukawa as though it were a customary prayer. Togami folded his arms.

“Make yourself useful and go fret elsewhere. Better yet, take a bath. I have work to do,” he said with an impatient glare. Fukawa hesitated and her face scrunched up like some pouty, petulant child. Togami quirked his brow.

“What is it?” he asked, his patience threadbare. Fukawa’s lips twitched into an oozing grin.

“Can Byakuya-sama do his work in the bathroom?”

A pause. Togami fixed his glasses.

“Perhaps…”

“I will bring you your favorite chair, Byakuya-sama! All you have to do is sit down!” promised Fukawa, and her reward was sinking into a tub of hot water fifteen minutes later with a perfect view to Togami poring over his draft, at a table he had carried there himself months ago as incentive for Fukawa to bathe more than once a week.

* * *

By the next gala opening, they had received Togami’s designs translated seamlessly into fabric, shoes and freshly purchased accessories. They hurried off to dress and fifteen minutes to 7 pm, Togami and Fukawa began descending down opposite staircases towards the front door, showcasing their brand new complementary outfits. Togami’s powder pink shirt was paired with a white and pink bowtie nestling into a stunning white suit of pink and blue cuffs, pocket linings and an impeccably folded cloth handkerchief. Fukawa’s white dress was fit for a glorious wedding, adorned with what appeared to be butterfly wings and ribbons of that same soft pink and blue.

“How do I look, Byakuya-sama..?” she mewled the moment she stepped in front of him. Togami adjusted his glasses with a smirk.

“Acceptable,” he replied, forcing himself not to stare into those sparkling, pitifully happy eyes. She clung to his arm and he allowed it. Tonight, the world would be his oyster.

* * *

Indeed it was for the duration of the gala opening. Fukawa observed all relevant decorum and soon assumed the haughty air of a young lady constantly on her guard, clinging to her shining aegis that scoffed at the plain masses who had to settle for Armanis and Chanels and fancied himself a visionary of his day and age. He even condescended to dance with Fukawa and watched the flight of her delicate ribbons with a look of calm reserve, congratulating himself once more on his success.

They decided to leave when a larger party suggested they continue the evening at a five-star restaurant where “important matters” may be more comfortably discussed. Togami knew a golden opportunity when he saw one and so they stepped outside— only to stop dead in their tracks. A few feet away, a hand flew into the air over a prodigious jungle of dreads and Hagakure called out with a grin,

“Togami-chi! Fukawa-chi! Great Pokémon cosplay!”

Some of the guests that had just left the building with them stopped in their tracks with stunned clicks of their designer heels. A man whispered something to his partner, who whisked a gloved hand to her lips to smother a giggle; others exchanged a few hushed lines and meaningful glances. Slowly but surely a vein began to throb in the middle of Togami’s temple, counting the beats of his heart like clockwork.

“Who’s that Pokémon, what’s its name..” mused Hagakure out loud as he cupped his chin in thought. Togami’s hand tightened on Fukawa’s arm.

“Keep walking, Fukawa,” he whispered as he dragged her towards the opening door of their limousine, just a few more steps, almost there..

“ _Sylveon,_ right?”

“ _Good bye,_ ” snapped Togami as he all but shoved Fukawa inside and joined her a moment later, slamming the car door firmly and definitively shut. Hagakure scratched the back of his head with a grin, his dreads rustling like grass in the wind. The small crowd gathering behind him still stood there hypnotized, their eyes slipping from his hair to his questionable clothes and finally to their own shrinking reflections in the one-way windshield of Togami Byakuya’s screeching limousine.

“I’m an Espurr man myself!” Hagakure shouted after the fleeing couple, loud enough to reach through the glass and their stubborn attempts to ignore his embarrassing existence. They turned around the corner and Fukawa scoffed, her arms drawn protectively over her chest.

“The nerve of that idiot, offending Byakuya-sama’s designs with his infantile suggestions!” she hissed, her fingers curling into angry pink claws. She twitched a moment later and whipped her head to Togami, eyes gleaming with delight. “Never mind him, Byakuya-sama! You were absolutely right, I felt so _beautiful_ , I know I’m nothing but a walking garbage can but you managed to transform me into something _bearable to look at..!_ ”

Togami folded his arms, eyes boring into space in boiling silence as Fukawa rubbed shamelessly against his side like an overgrown cat wrapped in silk.

* * *

The digital alarm clock ticked to 2:21 am and Fukawa’s knee slipped further up the sheets, one hand reaching towards the empty space beside her. It wasn’t empty for long. A moment later, their cat landed just inches from her leg and sank its claws into Togami’s abandoned pillow with purrs of contented malice, loud enough to drown Fukawa’s snore with ease.

Locked in his personal library, Togami sat hunched and wide awake over a slick black 3DS with his stylus in hand, which had just hovered over the top and selected a large pink macaron. He coaxed it towards the middle of the screen where Sylveon daintily nibbled it to nothing and jumped with joy at the delicious treat. Her ribbons flickered in playful waves. Togami let out a sigh.

“I don’t understand, Touko,” he whispered to the screen. “My design was perfectly subtle.”

**Author's Note:**

> "Touko" used to be an Eevee Togami caught during his first super secret Pokémon session and the little thing looked so shaggy and scruffy he named it Touko, but it was a mistake because he ended up spending time with it, patting it and feeding it macarons (out of no kindness of his icy heart, oh no, that stupid thing is just a bunch of pixels anyway..), and then was completely baffled when Touko evolved into a Sylveon.
> 
> Touko has won 183 battles to date and is Togami's most powerful Pokémon.


End file.
